


Kiss Me First.

by Charmtion



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:11:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmtion/pseuds/Charmtion
Summary: Tommy Shelby x OC.Ellen Cole is up to something - and Tommy is determined to find out exactly what.





	Kiss Me First.

“What in the holy fuck is that racket?” asked Tommy, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and closing his eyes. Before him, sat nervously on chairs drawn up next to his desk, the foreman and his assistant swallowed anxiously. “Is someone being murdered in my factory?” Tommy blinked his eyes open at the two men. “Well?”

The foreman, a broad-shouldered, dirty-handed man of some forty years, wilted beneath the fire of the boss’s blue-grey glare. He turned to his apprentice who was white about the mouth. “Chapman,” he said. “Go without and find the cause.”

Chapman scrabbled to his feet, cap in hand, and darted through the office door. Tommy closed his eyes again as the door banged back on its hinges and hung open. A further explosion of glass shattering and some frenzied shouting made his eyes snap open again. He raised his eyebrows at the foreman.

“Smith?” he said expectantly. “You’re the foreman of this factory – what the fuck is that noise? Some machine backfiring? Some dolt feeding the wrong furnace?”

Smith swallowed anxiously again and bobbed his gaze back and forth. He shifted in his seat. “Chapman – ”

Tommy cut him off with a raised hand. “Go off after him and make sure he hasn’t become machine fodder.” He flicked his wrist and dismissed the foreman, watching with exasperation as Smith tripped over his coal-grimed boots in haste to leave, slamming the door shut behind him. Sighing, Tommy lifted himself from his plush chair and filled a crystal tumbler with whiskey. The commotion continued without, drawing closer up along the stairs and gallery leading to the office. Now he could clearly hear the cause of the noise and he breathed heavily through his nose, put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He settled back against the desk to await her entrance.

“Three, two, one,” he said softly to himself, drawing on his cigarette and sighing out the smoke. As the cloud cleared out from his nostrils the office door heaved open and slammed shut again and there she was, all five foot nothing of her, wrapped in a wine-dark sweater and high pencil skirt, her stockinged feet bare of shoes before – too late, a patent-heeled boot flew past his head and smacked dully into the panelled wall behind him. He ducked to avoid the flight of the other shoe and rolled his eyes to high heaven as he heard the whiskey tumbler shatter. He pushed himself up off the desk as she marched over to him, opening his mouth to speak, but with one quick jab of her hand to his chest she toppled him back.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Tommy,” she said, her soft little voice transformed into fire and fury. “Just shut your fucking mouth.” He eyed up her rigid stance, the furious swaying of her hips, the tap-tap-tap of her bare foot on the carpet, her arms folded tight across the swell of her breasts. She turned her back on him and he watched appreciatively as her little backside stormed and shook within the tight skirt as she crossed the room to draw the blinds at the windows, closing out the shocked faces of the office workers and the smashed glass and carnage she’d left in her wake. She turned sharply to face him, her black hair lashing out like a dozen snakes hissing from her head, and her eyes were blue-black fury as she caught the desire in his gaze.

“You can stop biting your lip at me, Thomas Shelby,” she seethed. “I’ll no sooner roll on my back for you than a bitch would for a second-rate cur.”

He smiled at that, stubbing out his cigarette, and then laughed to see the fury it provoked. “Hello, my love,” he said in that dark, deep tone he used for only her. He watched the effect it had on her, the gradual softening beginning with the slump of her shoulders and her frustrated sigh. “What’s the noise been about?” He raised himself off the desk again and walked to his chair behind it, drumming the leather arms with patient fingers. “You’ve had my foreman and his mate running shitless.” He picked up a shard of crystal tumbler. “Waste of good drink, that is, sweetheart. A damn waste.”

She swayed over to his desk, planting her hands upon it and leaning over toward him. She bent her head and stuck out her tongue, licking in a long, languorous stroke the whiskey drops up from the crystal shard. She saw him clench his teeth at that and she smiled. She rose back to her feet and began to walk toward him, trailing her fingers along the hardwood desk, coming to a halt just before his chair, sitting back onto the desk and hitching up her skirt. He watched her transfixed with that easy smile on his face as she planted a foot on either arm of his chair, the motion causing her skirt to ride up to her thighs. Lifting her hands, she began to slowly unbutton her sweater till her breasts stood bare and stiff above the high waistband of her skirt. Still he kept that easy smile and she felt her own mouth stiffen with determination. She put her hand to his face, tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones, before sweeping her thumb against his lips and pushing it into the warm cave of his mouth. He sucked it a moment before catching it between his teeth and lightly denting it. She gave a little moan at that before snatching back from his mouth and pulling the thumb he wetted down over her breast. He watched mad with fascinated hunger the wet track she made around her nipple before she trailed her thumb down her belly. Finally, she smiled, slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her skirt, because his smug little smirk had fallen from his lips and his eyes were narrow with desire.

Now he rose sharply, his hand catching hold of her wrist and wrenching her wandering fingers away from her thighs. He bent her back beneath his weight, pressing her onto the desk, catching her other hand and pinning them in one of his up behind her head. She arched up from the desk, noting with fire in her eyes the groan of desire that erupted from his throat. He butted his forehead against hers, taking her lips in a hard, furious kiss before he trailed his mouth down her neck to her nipple showing wet still. He hovered his mouth over it, breathing softly till it grew harder still, and she squirmed beneath him, her legs scissoring and pressing her hips up against his.

“Now, Nell,” he murmured, lifting his head to lean against her forehead again. Her blue eyes were black with desire as she bit her lip to stop from moaning. “Tell me what this is all about.” Her gaze was pleading but he shook his head. “No, no, my love. I plan to keep you pinned up like a butterfly until you tell me what that noise was about.” His free hand was tracing the indentations of her ribs softly, making her skin contract and a gasp hitch in her throat. His fingers whispered around her navel before they swept downward quickly and pulled her skirt up around her waist. He glanced down and gave a soft chuckle. “No slip today, Nell?” His voice was deadly quiet as his hand closed on the slick glow of warmth between her legs, his thumb whispering against her clit. She tipped back her head, moaning long and low, and arched into his palm.

“Tommy,” she whispered, her throat tight. “Tommy, please.” She closed her eyes tight to hear his soft little chuckle sound again and pressed her legs shut around his hand as his thumb kept gently stroking. “Oh, baby, please, _please_.”

“Nellie,” he said, landing soft kisses on her throat. “What was the noise about?” He sank his teeth fleetingly into the creamy skin below her ear. “Tell me.” He kissed along her jaw, peppering her skin with his lips and tongue. “Now.” He pushed a finger up inside her and felt her pulsing around him. She bucked her hips and whimpered. “Tell me.”

“Let go of my hands,” she said, her voice tearing from her throat in almost a shout. “And I’ll tell you.” She blinked up at him, eyes blue-wide and innocent. “I promise.” He complied and her hands sprang free and fell to her breasts. She pinched her nipples to hard pink peaks and arched herself back into his hand, filling her own palms with her breasts and moaning. He slammed her hips still with his arm, furious she was chasing her own pleasure and ignoring his command. He withdrew his fingers sharply, enjoying the gasp of displeasure she made as he did so. He sank back into his chair, eyeing her with a raised brow as she lay on her back on his desk, skirt up around her hips, breasts crashing and rolling with her quickened breath. She sat up with some effort, her cheeks flushed and hair a cloud of ink around her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes half-shut with lust. “I’m sorry, Tommy, love, I’m sorry.” She reached for the buttons of his shirt but he caught her wrists and pulled her onto his lap. His face was hard but so was his cock; she felt it straining against his trousers and rolled herself slowly over him. A muscle flickered in his jaw.

“Nell, please,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “Tell me now before this waiting kills us both.”

“Kiss me first,” she whispered, slanting her mouth over his, darting her tongue out to glaze his lips. He opened his mouth onto hers and she took his tongue, whimpering hotly. He let go of her wrists and she melted into him, her arms rising to loop tight around his neck, her body rising of its own accord to press against him. “Don’t be angry,” she murmured against his mouth. “Promise me you won’t be angry.”

His hands became still on her waist. “What have you done, Ellen Cole?” His voice was deathly quiet. He sat still and silent as a stone as she unbuttoned his trousers and she nearly wept with the pain she felt from the heat and haze of lust choking her as he sat impassive beneath her. But he was hard and throbbing in her hand and she raised herself up and sank onto him and he couldn’t help but give a groan at the feel of her wet warmth choking his cock. She leant back, eddying her hips against him. His fingers dug into her ribcage and he thrusted up inside her despite himself.

She moved on him now, hard, fast, one hand gripping the back of his chair for support, the other holding his shoulder. His head bobbed against her throat before he sucked a nipple into his mouth and provoked a keening whimper from her with his tongue. She was lifting herself up and slamming back down again and again and he was hot and hard and trembling inside her. She slowed her pace a little and looked at him. His eyes were narrowed with beckoning closure and suspicion.

“I made a deal,” she suddenly blurted out, her hips slowing to a stop. “I made a deal, Tommy, that’s what the noise was about.” He raised his eyebrows, his hands sank deep into the flesh of her hips, and he leant back in his chair a little, breathing heavily.

“You made a deal,” he repeated raggedly. “With who? Gilly Pierce from Small Heath Stores? Winston Churchill down in Westminster? Who’d you make a deal with, Nell?” He felt fit to burst inside her and as she shifted slightly on his lap he almost came hard. “Fucking tell me, Nell!” he roared now, spent lust and desire and anger pulsing through his spine to his cock. He sagged forward into her breasts, breathing hard. “Who?”

“Luca Changretta,” she said on a whisper. “I made a deal to meet with Luca Changretta.”

He staggered to his feet, still inside her, before collapsing back into the chair.

“What the fuck do you mean – you made a fucking deal with Luca Changretta?” he shouted, struggling against her as she fought to stop him pulling out and away from her. She clamped her thighs around him, forcing him to stay in the chair. “What the _fuck_ do you mean?”

She looked down at him. “I’ve made a deal to meet with Luca Changretta in a place and time of his choosing.” Her voice was calm and low and she began moving against him again, soft and slow. “Under the pretence that I want to negotiate a truce. I know he’s not so stupid to believe that – but then I’m not so stupid to realise the only reason he’d meet with me is to put a bullet between my eyes.” She reached down now and began to touch herself above the joining of their flesh. Her eyelids fluttered and he sat sagged back against the chair staring at her in hungry disbelief as she worked them both to frenzy. “So I shall hide a knife within my slip and I’ll cut his throat before he can draw his gun.” She sat up and shook and sighed and started suddenly and he felt her clenching madly around his cock as she came hard. He looked at her face, frantic with pleasure and hurt and love and desire, her brow furrowed and flickering, her mouth open and pink and moaning, and despite his anger and fury he felt his cock twitch and explode inside her and he sighed raggedly, his forehead tight against her own as he shook at his own finish.

“Hang on just a fucking minute,” he said suddenly, but the anger was gone from his voice, shuddered out of him with everything else. “You went behind my back and made a deal with my mortal enemy, lied to me about your plots and plans – and yet you were the one smashing glasses and throwing papers around my factory all afternoon.” He looked deep into her eyes and despite himself felt his mouth perk up into an incredulous smile. “What the fuck did _you_ have to be angry about?”

She returned his smile and kissed him, quivering a little sigh through her lips and into his mouth. “That was a little show for the Changretta spy within our ranks.” Her voice was a whisper. She picked up another tumbler from behind her on the desk and, holding his gaze, threw it onto the floor where it exploded in a hundred shards. “Fuck you, Thomas Shelby!” she shouted angrily, but her eyes were soft with love and she leaned back against his lips. “They’ve got to believe I hate you, Tommy.” She pressed soft kisses along his jaw, peppered them on his cheekbones, before sinking her mouth into the curve of his neck. “As soon as I put my fist through the first window downstairs and screamed your name in blue murder, our little spy scurried out to tell his master that the great Thomas Shelby had lost his lover in a fit of jealousy and rage.” She glanced back up at him, laughter in her eyes.

“So your little performance required one window to be smashed?” he asked, indicating the carnage she’d wrecked all around them.

She shrugged, resettling herself in his lap, her hands busy combing through the long strands of hair on the top of his head. “I was having too much fun to stop.” She smiled at him. “Besides, I wanted you angry.”

“Why?” he asked, his hands making their way from her hips to her thighs. “Why would you want to rile a man as cold and cruel as me?”

“Because,” she started, breathing hard as he felt between her legs. “Because you make me come harder when you’re angry. So,” she whispered, “fucking _hard_.” She rolled her hips in time with his fingers and felt his cock growing hard against her. “Oh, Tommy.”

“If everyone without believes us loveless and apart now, my sweetheart,” said Tommy, catching her bottom lip with his teeth and pulling it down before kissing her hard and heavy. “Then shouldn’t you be leaving as angry as you arrived?”

She smiled against his mouth. “Kiss me first,” she whispered, her fingers circling his cock and guiding it into her again. He thrust up into her with a grin and a groan. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, lifted his face up to hers and drank deep his eyes. “Kiss me first, and I’ll go, Thomas Shelby.”

At that, he kissed her soft and slow, before drawing back and glancing down at where their bodies joined and moved against each other. “We can pretend,” he murmured, capturing her throat with a kiss. “But I’ll never let you go, Nell. Never.”


End file.
